Rory the Roman: The Legend of the Last Centurion
by FringifiedWhovian
Summary: Rory's story after the Doctor "Vortex Manipulates" into the future. What did he go through? What kind of messes did he get into?
1. Prologue

First story! Please review!  
>-<p>

Not even bats ventured into the Underhenge. Rory lived in a tomb. In a tomb, alone… with Amy. Nothing disturbed his wandering thoughts, or whatever they were now. Amy was locked in the Pandorica. The ultimate prison couldn't even be escaped by death, which is what she almost was. Dead. He had shot her himself. Sort of. He hadn't been in control of his laser hand at the time, but he had shot her. Lasered her. Whatever.

In two thousand years, he would marry Amy. Their wedding had been tomorrow when he'd left...

Back in 2010, The Doctor had interrupted his bachelor party. That crazy Time Lord had popped out of the paper cake and told Rory that his fiancé was a good kisser.

"Why did I come with them? Why didn't I stay home? Amy probably would've made he wedding..." He gently moved his hand around the circular lock mechanism on the Pandorica, as he usually did when he longed for Amy. He imagined the lock turning like it had before the Doctor was locked inside. And like it had when he had sonicked it open so that the Doctor could escape. He remembered carrying Amy's barely breathing body and setting it inside. As he rubbed the Pandorica, he remembered stroking Amy's cool cheek before the box closed. The Doctor said the Pandorica would keep her alive forever. He said that when a version of Amy who was healthy touched the box, when it got a sample of her living DNA, that it could heal her.

Rory sighed and looked down at his clothes, a Roman Centurion's uniform. Gingerly, he pulled out his sword. He had used it as a Roman. As Roranicus, he had killed people while conquering new lands for the Roman Empire. Since he had been reunited with Amy, his life was different. He didn't know if his roman life was valid anymore; could it be more real than his old life - the life he had known in 2010? Technically, his old life hadn't happened yet, and it wouldn't for two thousand years... He had never hurt anyone then.

Before he met Amy, Rory had once played with some of the neighborhood boys while they stoned a cat. He had missed on purpose, but even pretending to participate in such a heinous act had filled his six-year-old self with guilt and shame. Despite of these modern memories, Roranicus had slain dozens of faceless opposing soldiers. Humans. If he were capable of sleep, memories such as these would keep him awake at night.

Memories like those, and the guilt of Amy, and the wonder of why he ever started off on this crazy adventure. Perhaps the most mysterious idea was the thought of what he really _was._ Rory didn't worry about what he could be, or what has become. Rory needed to known _what_ he really was – physically.

Auton.


	2. Discovery

**A/N: Here's the second (first?) chapter. Am I late? It's really late, isn't it?**

**unBeat'd. but only because I couldn't find one who would respond and be able to. I couldn't allow myself to not post this any longer… Enjoy!**

**Thanks to FallOutGrl02, Dyani, Laffy-Taffy the Grape, and patty cake rocks for reviewing!**

**I don't own Rory, Underhenge, or the Pandorica (or its contents). I guess I do own all those roman soldiers, though… weird.**

* * *

><p>Rory was lying in the sun when they came. Resting in the tiny patch of light that filtered in down the stairs was as close as he could come to sleeping. His was thinking of Amy, but that was no surprise. What else was there to think about? His guilt-stained memories were interrupted, today, by the sound of thunder. No, not thunder, footsteps… and hooves. He leapt to his feet and cautiously poked his head out from the Underhenge.<p>

At first, there was nothing to see, he looked around the opening a full 360 degrees, turning his body. He probably could've just turned his head, but her preferred to behave as human-like as possible. All of a sudden, his eyes zeroed in on a speck in the distance; it seemed as if he were looking through a camera lens, zooming ever inward until he could make out the one hundred roman soldiers headed toward him, he realized he probably _was_ looking though a similar mechanism. The important bit was, though, that a hundred Romans were traveling relatively quickly to Stonehenge on foot and horseback! He was going to be discovered! There wasn't time to shift the center stone of back over the gaping hole in the ground that led to his chamber, but he managed to push the slightly rusty double doors at the bottom of the steps closed with relative silence. He dashed to the corner where he had shoved the remains of the monsters and robots from that fateful night and grabbed the arm of a dismembered cyberman to bar the doors. Satisfied that he had enhanced the security of the chamber as well as he could under such short notice, he donned his plumed centurion's helmet and hid himself behind the Pandorica. "No need to get myself arrested on first sight, Amy."

He was as ready as he'd ever be.

* * *

><p>Centurion Marcus was quite annoyed. Here he was, an accomplished soldier, he had led many a leading battle and returned unscathed. He had also taken many an injury for Rome. One bonk on the head had left him unconscious for a few days, and the mindless, superstitious augurs had deemed him "cursed" and "unfavored." <em>He'll cause great strife in the empire!<em> they'd wailed to the Caesar. If Marcus himself hadn't personally saved his ruler's life a few months ago, he probably would've been executed!

Instead, he's been sent off on a wild goose chase with the most ragtag, incompetent bunch of soldiers in the entire empire. He was meant to fetch some sort of box from an old legend. He sighed again, for the umpteenth time since he set out, and shifted his weight in his saddle before he slowed his horse to a complete stop in front of the strange stone monument. He had no doubt that some sort of ancient barbaric people had built it there, but he doubted there was treasure underneath it. The other common supposition was that it was a marker from the gods. "Marking what?" he had asked during his briefing. The only answer he got was "something 'mystical.'" Great.

His motley crew had assembled. "Someone light a torch, so we can at least see these boulders." About twelve flames sprung to life, and Stonehenge was bathed in firelight. If nothing else, his soldiers were eager to please. Marcus spotted the hole, lined with steps, and dismounted. Slowly, he crept to the bottom of the aged stairs and tried the door.

"The entrance barred with something, but I think we can knock it open."

* * *

><p>Rory could hear the Romans just outside, but he didn't stir.<p>

"The entrance barred with something, but I think we can knock it open." Came the muffled cry. Then, the sound of people beating on the door came; soldiers thundered down the steps and slammed into the barricade simultaneously. The cyber-arm held up better than Rory expected, but it couldn't last forever. He sighed and leaned against the Pandorica in the darkness. He thought of Amy again.

The troops outside were making progress. It wouldn't be too much longer before they broke down the doors. With every thump, the cyberman arm contorted into stranger and stranger angles. They would be here soon.

Even with his back to the door, the sudden firelight from the dozen or so torches was blinding after about an hour of darkness. The discomfort only lasted a few moments, though, and Rory was soon alert again. He could hear everything. Every gasp, sigh, and whisper; each step and shuffle; the sheer magnitude of the tiny sounds was deafening in its own right. He struggled to limit his hearing to just the nearest row of warriors. There was one out in front, the commander. He was inching cautiously towards the box. Rory heard the rub of leather and bronze as the man outstretched his arm.

"Unbelievable.." he breathed.

Rory prepared himself. _One… two… three!_ He dashed around the Pandorica, drew his sword, and pointed the tip directly at the leader's neck. "HALT!"

One hundred Romans raised their swords; all of them were aimed at Rory. To his credit, though, the Centurion _did_ halt, if only to avoid impaling himself.

"Don't you _dare_ touch her!" Rory added. He nodded at the Centurion's hand and it was lowered. "No one touches her!"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: OK, that's it! Was it good? It was mostly just exposition, I know, but I enjoyed writing it…**

**Rate and review, please!**

**(thanks)**


	3. Enraging

I haven't updated this in FAR to long... SORRY!

Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I've learned recently that it's customary to send messages after reviews, so that will happen from now on... [New Writer Unawareness]

I don't own anything that you may recognize from _Doctor Who_, unfortunately.

* * *

><p>Why am I not dead?<p>

As Rory stood with his sword at the opposing Centurion's throat, he could only wonder why the man's troops hadn't attacked him. He remembered his training and knew that it was a Roman's duty to protect another Roman unless expressly ordered not to by someone of higher authority, yet hey all stood armed and ready to attack, not one soldier making a move. Was it his own uniform that was confusing them? The Centurion's speech jerked him from his ponderings.

"I've had many a weapon pointed at my head, young man, but never a Roman's. I can't say that I envy our enemies." The man was making an effort to appear calm, but the nervous sweat trickling from under his plumed helmet spoke otherwise.

"If you weren't disturbing the Pandorica you wouldn't have to worry about it." Rory replied snarkily.

"'Pandorica,' is that the name of the box?" The centurion was treading lightly, speaking as if he expected Rory to lunge forward at the slightest insult. That was probably wise.

"Why are you here?"

"I was sent to retrieve a mystical box of legend. I assume this is it, but it seems another man has beaten me to it… Tell me, soldier, how did you come to be here?"

"That's none of your concern. Why were you sent? Who wants the Pandorica?"

"May I remind you who has an army on his side? I ask your name, at least, man!"

After a moment's remembering, Rory grinned fondly and replied. "Roranicus. My name is Roranicus Pondicus." Amy would've loved that; he was finally giving into the _Pond_ surname.

"Well, Roranicus, I'm Marcus. The Roman Emperor Hadrian bid me here to find this box, this Pandorica. We are to fetch it back to Rome, where it will be protected from Rome's enemies and investigated."

"Hadrian, huh? I think he was supposed to be pretty decent." When trying to recall facts, Rory had a vague recollection of a history class from the 20th century and a strange awareness that there was no wireless connection available. "Even so, he has no use for the Pandorica. No one in this age does."

"I think the Emperor would prefer to decide that for himself."

"Maybe so, but the Pandorica is under my care."

"You understand, soldier, that the _Emperor_ has requested this box. You cannot deny him."

"She is in my care. I don't see why she can't remain this way. In fact, she must remain this way. The Emperor won't get anything from it, anyway, as I've already said."

"The _Emperor_, Centurion! And my men are getting antsy. We need to take the box."

"You will do nothing of the sort." What didn't these guys get? They sure as hell weren't getting their stupid hands on Amy. He settled into his fighting stance, which, based on the expressions of the soldiers, appeared to have gone out of style in recent years. It would be effective enough, if he had to fight – for he would if Amy was put in any jeopardy. Of course, no harm could truly come to her as long as she remained in the Pandorica, but… he _needed_ to protect her.

"Really? Centurion or not, Roranicus, there is no way you could defeat a hundred Roman soldiers." Marcus smiled. _Smiled? Was he really so unimposing?_ Rory lowered his guard slightly and switched his sword to his left hand to free up his handgun, that is, the laser-gun embedded in his right hand.

"There," the Centurion continued, taking Rory's change of position as a disarmament. "We can negotiate something. I'm not interested in getting rid of you; Heck! I'm not even interested in this dumb bo-"

* * *

><p>That was it. He'd snapped. Something sparked in his head and whatever fuse controlled his anger had blown and now his painfully robotic senses were clouded by rage. His vision tinged red like a video game he had played in the future.<p>

"The Pandorica may not be of any use to you or the Emperor of Rome, but she means everything to me." He shouted. "It's not dumb."

Oh! He just couldn't pretend to be a normal, sane, human being, could he? As his vision returned to normal and his composure returned to plastic roman existence, Rory became aware that his _gladius_ was once again pressed against Marcus's neck and that the Centurion's soldiers were finally making a move. He withdrew from Marcus's throat and blocked the nearest attack easily. Blatantly inhuman tracking lines appeared in his sight, highlighting oncoming assaults in every direction. There was no challenge in maintaining his defense, and Rory soon found that he didn't even break a sweat as he swung his arm about, stopping swords left and right before they even came near his body. Perhaps the most difficult task was reminding himself to only strike the swords and armor, as his autopilot seemed to be irreparably set to _kill_.

The barrage waned as Marcus roared, "I want him alive." Two men broke off from the group and grabbed Rory's arms mid-swing. He let them restrain him easily, and he even feigned a slight struggle with the weak ropes around his wrists.

"Now, we're going to take the Pandorica to the Emperor, and we're going to take you to the Emperor, and you can see that as being taken captive or being taken to your leader or being allowed to stay with this box. It is all of those things." Marcus turned to his tired troops. "Let's go."

* * *

><p>Well?<p>

I hope you enjoyed it! Since this one didn't have any of Marcus's POV, I have a feeling that the next chapter may be mostly his thoughts on what just happened, maybe. I wouldn't want to get too attached...

Reviews help everyone!


	4. Marching

**AN: Whoa, two updates in a week? Inconceivable!**  
><strong>But this one is really short compared to the others... Sorry!<strong>  
><strong>It just came to a good end, OK?<strong>

**It's depressing, but I don't own Doctor Who... (You guys will tell me of my OC is annoying, right?)**

* * *

><p>His troops had camped for a few days at Stonehenge while they extracted the Box from its chambers and built a cart to transport it from some nearby timber, but they'd been marching ever since, heading to the beach where they left their well-stocked ship and a team of guards. The strange Centurion was with them.<p>

Marcus couldn't rightly call him a prisoner, since every time Roranicus was out of sight his bonds performed a vanishing act. He never tried to escape or attack, but they'd lost eight meters of rope before they finally gave up on tying his wrists.

That wasn't the only thing. Marcus had inquired at supper a few nights ago and confirmed that not one man had ever seen the Centurion eat, sleep, or relieve himself. Any food they gave him just sat there, so they stopped wasting their rations. The only communication they could get out of him was a slight shake of his head when he denied sustenance and the response, "Mine," when a young foot soldier had asked him what sort of name "Roranicus" was on the first night. But the idiosyncrasies only reassured Marcus that he was right to detain the Centurion. Anyone that bizarre must surely know something about what was going on, and information was what Marcus craved most now that his career was in the baths.

The Council was another story. Marcus couldn't begin to imagine what the superstitious augurs would think of the man from the Underhenge. They wouldn't like his reticence, or his mysteriousness, or his sheer inhumanness. Or perhaps they'd assume he was a god. Oh, the trouble he'd be in if those pinheads accused him of holding a deity incarnate captive.

Marcus was jerked from his thoughts when he saw his scout rejoin the march. The man stared at Roranicus as he passed the cart, as all him men did, but the stranger was just sitting against the Pandorica, staring blankly into the empty night sky. When the scout made his way to the front of the crowd, he gave his report.

"We're coming up on the coast, sir. We'll hit the beach by dawn."

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading and reviewing! :D<br>**


End file.
